


Cinnamon and Sugar

by LiraelClayr007



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas POV, Cas bakes a pie, Cas loves Dean, Dean Loves Cas, Dean POV, M/M, alternating pov, but they are afraid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 06:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11269791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiraelClayr007/pseuds/LiraelClayr007
Summary: Dean has feelings for Cas, but he is afraid to show them.Cas has feelings for Dean, but can't find the right words. So he decides to say it with pie.





	Cinnamon and Sugar

“Dean, we need to talk.”

Dean looked up from his book to see Sam leaning against his doorframe, an odd expression on his face. 

“And before you say anything, just let me say…” He trailed off, looking like he'd just swallowed a mouthful of pond sludge. 

“Before I'm 50, Sam.”

Sam took a deep breath. “Look. I know you've got this whole repression thing going on, your ‘if I don't talk about it it isn't real’ plan of attack, or defense, or whatever it is, but I really think you're going to have to face this head-on at some point, and I'm thinking that point is going to be--”

Dean tried. He really did. But this was too much. He did not like where this conversation was headed. 

“Sammy! I have two things to say to you. 1. You're rambling. Stop. And B. I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Dude. He's baking a pie.”

Dean froze. Cas was...baking? Pie?

Dean heard Sam say “Apple. He bought the crust but he's making the filling..” but it sounded like he was far away, or maybe underwater. His brain was too full of Cas to listen to Sam now. 

Cas. Baking a pie. Cas didn't eat pie--Cas didn't really eat anything. Sam barely ate pie. So if Cas is baking a pie, did that mean it was for… 

And Cas didn't cook. Back when he was human he raved about peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, and he could make passable coffee, but Dean had never seen him so much as fry an egg. And now…

But it didn't mean anything at all. 

Right?

Dean shook his head, hard--not denying anything, not really, just trying to steady his thoughts. He gripped the book, not realizing he was bending pages. Sam shot him a look, and Dean wondered if he looked as queasy as he felt. 

It just wasn't possible. Was it? Cas was just trying out a new skill. Or something. Dean wouldn't let himself even consider the alternative: that Cas was trying to tell him...something.

I'm really messed up when I can't even think the words, Dean thought, cringing. 

“Alright,” Dean said, sounding much more confident than he felt. “Alright.” He stood up and strode past Sam, who watched him go, open-mouthed. 

“Wow,” breathed Sam, after Dean was gone. “About damn time.”

*********

There are humans who do this every day, thought Castiel, bewildered.

The words in the cookbook were so simple, so orderly. Cas was good at following directions. So why was this so impossible?

It had seemed like such a good idea. He'd been watching Dean, the way he always did. Suddenly he was overwhelmed by his need to do more than just look at the jade-eyed man. He opened his mouth, determined to speak, certain that this was the time. Before he could make a sound, Dean looked up and smiled, and Cas was once again struck dumb. 

I once heard Charlie say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, he'd thought. Dean likes pie more than anything else. If I bake him a pie, he'll know that I love him, even if I can't get up the courage to actually say it. 

It had been a good idea in theory. In practice, however, Cas was out of his depth. Who knew it was this hard to peel apples?! He knew about measuring cups--Dean used them when he made pancakes--so the flour was easy. But he didn't know what to do about the cinnamon and nutmeg and salt and sugar. What was the difference between a teaspoon and a tablespoon? He stood in front of the open silverware drawer, feeling helpless. There were just spoons. The one Sam uses in his tea is the same as the ones everyone uses at the table, he thought. This is a very confusing system. 

The secret ingredient is love, Cas thought suddenly. I read that somewhere. As long as I love Dean, I'm sure the pie will be perfect.

As for the rest...he'd just have to guess. 

After a few minor setbacks (that bag of sugar had been far more fragile than it had appeared) he had the filling mixed and in the pie pan. After the mess with the filling he was especially glad he'd decided to go with the ready-made pie crust. The thought of trying to roll out dough made him inwardly quake. 

I can wield an angel blade, he thought, but somehow I am defeated by a rolling pin. And spoons. 

Flour, brown sugar, butter: the crumble topping. Cas doubled the recipe. This was something he remembered from a long ago conversation with Dean..

“Mom used to make this apple pie, it was the best thing I'd ever tasted. It didn't have a crust on top, it had this buttery-sugary-melty stuff on top instead. That was my favorite. Mom said the secret to the pie was twice as much topping. I've never baked it myself, but I can still taste it…”

By the time Cas got the pie into the oven he was fairly certain there was more crumble topping on himself than on the pie, but it didn't matter now. The pie was baking. Now all he had to do was wait. And worry about what Dean would say. He set the timer, turned to find a place to sit and wait, and found himself staring into Dean's green eyes. 

*********

When Dean saw Cas in the bunker’s kitchen, he almost burst out laughing. 

Had Cas ever been so flustered before? And when was the last time Cas made a mess of anything, bloody beheadings and the like excluded? 

But then he saw what Cas was doing, really saw. Apple pie with crumble topping. Extra crumble topping. 

He remembered, Dean marveled. Cas remembered. 

I love him. 

Dean could barely breathe, just thinking the words in his head. He didn't know if he could say them out loud, but he had to try. 

He kept quiet, watching, while Cas put the pie into the oven. 

Okay, he thought. Now or never. Stay or go. He planted his feet, and when Cas turned around their eyes locked. 

“Dean,” Cas said, and Dean wondered how he'd never seen before that the angel loved him, too. 

“You're wearing an apron,” Dean said. 

“Yes. I was concerned I might make a mess.”

Dean looked pointedly around the room before deliberately gazing at Cas, eyes glinting with mirth. “I'm not sure the apron helped much,” he said, barely containing his laughter. “Your hair, your..everything..is covered with sugar.”

“The bag was made of only paper. When I opened--”

Dean closed the distance between them. It was too much, the smell of apples and cinnamon in the air and the sight of this perfect angel standing in front of him with sugar dusted lips. Before he could talk himself out of it he had Cas’s face in his hands and their lips were together, and there was sugar and cinnamon and CAS, and it was better than any pie Dean had ever tasted. 

When they stopped to breathe--was it hours later, or only moments?--Dean stepped back, unsure. “Cas. Was that, uh, okay?”

Cas smiled. “Yes, Dean. That was very okay.”

Dean relaxed and pulled Cas in again. “I love you, you know,” he said shakily. “I have for a long time. But I didn't know how to say it.”

Cas pulled back just enough so Dean could see those blazing blue eyes. “I didn't have the right words either. That's why I baked a pie.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to quiettewandering (I really wish I could make that a link!!) for helping me out with the ending! :)


End file.
